


The Crocker Dweeb's Nerdy Friend

by tomachan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomachan/pseuds/tomachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello there. I am John Egbert, sophomore, heir to the Crocker corporation."<br/>--Discontinued > Unless people want me to continue?--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crocker Corp Dweeb

**Author's Note:**

> First JohnDave fic hhh tell me how I've done so far?

What a bore this day is. Nothing seemed to entertain you. Decidedly, you concluded to check out the new student sitting two rows and one seat to the left behind you. You cocked your head to the side, meeting his eyes for a second.

He had dark brown, almost black hair, cut at odd angles that outlined his face fairly well. His square-rimmed, plain glasses were pushed up to the arch of his nose comfortably. Behind them were bright, blue eyes, shining confidence and perfection. His lips were in a small scowl, but that was probably because he caught you staring at him. For the fifth time this period. He wore a soft red, button-up, long-sleeved shirt with white suspenders and white shorts that slid down to his knees. His arms were settled softly across the desk, showing off boredom but giving a hint of why, yes, teacher, I'm paying attention.

You turn around again, looking to the board. Being a sophomore wasn't one of the best things that could be going on with your life, but, hey, it's better than being a freshman again. That year sucked for you. You don't care to try to remember. Now, you were cool, stylin', getting all the ladi- yeah, so you just thought you looked cool. But hey, everyone says it's the thought that counts, right?

Loosely rolling the string of your red hoodie in between two of your fingers, you tried to understand what was going on on the board.

x =

That's as far as you got before you automatically nope-d and went back to examining the desk. It was a little hard to see the detailing through your shades, but you got used to how everything looked in them. You ran your fingers through your tan-blonde hair, sighing a bit at how stupid this block was. If only the bell-

Speaking of, here it comes to save the day. You pick up your headphones and messenger bag, setting them on yourself and dusting off your black jeans loosely. You couldn't wait to get out of this block, but just as you were about to sprint your body and soul out of there, you were touched on the shoulder.

"Hello there. I am John Egbert, sophomore, heir to the Crocker corporation," you heard as the new boy held out his hand for you to shake.

You gave him a side-ways high-five and said, "Strider, sophomore doomed to walk these halls for another two years after this one. Call me Dave if you want." You gave him a shrug before turning around again to leave.

"I'm sorry, but you were staring at me earlier," he interrupted, but you started walking at a slow pace which signaled for him to walk with you.

"Eh, sorry, just strange uniform, dude," you said, leaning back as you walked, your headphones playing one of your favourites softly.

"These are the Crocker colours!" he exclaimed, jumping up a bit and most likely taking offense to such a small comment.

"And this is high school. Lose the cadet outfit, sergeant dweeb, and you'll rank up to lieutenant decent," you smirked at him, giving him an elbow nudge to make known you were joking around.

His lips turned in an oh-so-familiar scowl for, what was it, the millionth time today? You rolled your eyes when your head turned back. What a spoiled rich kid look. Everything about him made you want to cringe in disgust. The way his face turned when he was displeased, the way his glasses glared at you with the same amount of force that his eyes did, the way his eyes-

Okay, you've been staring at him way too long.

Well, you wouldn't say that. You're just painfully observant, which is possibly the reason you always make passing grades on your tests without even studying. You could be a detective like that Sherlock dude on TV. Not that it interested you. You were more into studying dead creatures and writing sick raps.

"I'd say that all of you need to dress a little less casual," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, giving you a look down.

You resisted rolling your eyes again. Who did he think he was? You quickened your pace, trying to get away from the boy you now doth "loser in the cake woman uniform".

Which, by turn, only made him speed up along with you. Seriously, can't he just back off? You want to lose this guy before people start thinking you're friends. You mentally shiver at the thought of being known as "the Crocker dweeb's nerdy friend". You've already had your whole loser phase last year. You'll get to the flashback later, right now Egdork is talking to you.

"Where are you heading to next, Dave?" he asked, looking a little up at you. He seemed a little short for his age, but he was only like five four, you being five seven.

You mentally glared at him, continuously screaming go away in your mind about six hundred times in an attempt that telepathy was common around this kid.

"English," you mutter, pushing up your glasses and turning sharply to your locker. John skidded to a halt and walked up to you.

"Me, too!" he said a bit too cheerfully. "Wait, aren't sunglasses not allowed at school?"

What's with this guy? You decide, confront him or be known as "the Crocker dweeb's nerdy friend" for the rest of your school experience. You grabbed your English book, depositing the Math.

"Look, what do you want?" you turned at him, slamming your locker shut and giving him a glare behind your shades. You doubted he could see it. You've slept so many times behind these glasses that you don't think you can count.

He shrunk back a little, holding his books tightly to his chest. Crap, no, you're not feeling guilty. You could see three girls in the background widening their eyes at you and whispering. You give them a quick glance, and they immediately shut up. Then, you returned your attention to John.

"I'm sorry," is all he said, his voice quieter than before.

Oh come on.

"You're just the first person I've talked to other than the teachers..."

No, don't do this.

"...and I thought we'd be friends...I should've known you were too cool to be friends with someone like me..."

You cave.

Letting out a noise of frustration, you shut him up, "Fine! Jesus H. Christ, we can be friends."

His eyes lit up again, and his smile grew. Darn it, don't do that.

"Just lose the outfit, okay, Juan?" you tap your foot, irritated at how much of a pushover you are. You always were. Whenever your older brother was sick, you'd wait on his every need because of the face he gave you. He mastered that freaking pout, just for times like that. Everyone always seems to guilt trip you.

"It's John. Uh, and I don't have any other outfits. I can go shopping," he proposed, his mood changing drastically.

"Whatever. Just stop followin' me like a puppy. I need space," you say, starting to walk off.

You could hear a small sort of frustrated sigh and an under his breath, "But I have next block with you."

You frown at yourself. You said no friends this year. You said no more relationships with anyone. You said they'd let you down in the end. You said they always do. You said people are stupid and are better off dead. You said you'd be invisible. You said you'd be that mysterious guy in the background that nobody knows. You said no more friends.

"See you next block, Dave!" you heard before turning your head to see him waving at you softly with a smile.

You said they'd always leave you in the end.

Giving him returning small smile, you wave your hand back at him for a second before turning a corner.

You said they always do.


	2. EctoBiolographer, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roses can be red, that much is true, but the best colour to go with red, is most definitely blue.

You flip your hair over to the side. Why were you doing this again? Ah, yes, because you're a pushover who can't handle that puppy pout. Mentally groaning, you flick your eyes up at the person in front of you.

"How do I look?" he smiled, buck teeth prominent, turning around in a full circle before stopping in front of you.

Here stands John Egbert, your new friend. It hurt you to say that. You were friends with this Crocker dweeb, and you couldn't stop it for the life of you. Those eyes, you swear, are going to be the death of you. Over those doe eyes were new glasses you picked out yourself, him getting a prescription for them. Blue, thin-rimmed, a look you decided matched his eyes better than his old ones. His hair was slightly styled, messed up from putting shirts on and off. A light blue t-shirt with a denim jacket over top, your choice. Black slacks was his choice, and you both decided on some black converse with blue sides and laces. Blue definitely matched him, as did red on yourself.

"Very nice, Egbert. Much better than that cadet uniform," you rolled your eyes, receiving a glare that looked like a miniature poodle gave it to you. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

John started fumbling with the edge of his jacket, "I dunno...It seems really casual."

"And it'll seem really casual to throw you in the trash can if you keep that other outfit on."

And again with the glares. Does he have any other expression?

"Come on, we're going out," you stuff your hands in your pockets, and you look at him, your expression reading 'come on'.

He gave you a look of bewilderment, leaning back in his spot, "And just where are we going?"

"I dunno, the park or somethin'? I wanna show you off," you shrug, tapping your foot slightly.

He looks down, probably in thought you think, and he looks back up, nodding. You start walking again, him following behind. He's sort of like a puppy. Puppy pout, following you around, yeesh. Before you head out, you grab your camera just in case you find any dead animals or wicked scenery. It takes you two about three minutes to get there, blissful silence all the way.

John's eyes brighten when you get there, eyes gleaming with a child-like happiness. Your chest starts to hurt. Maybe you'll get some food later, and it'll go away; you have eaten nothing in a few hours. He starts running to the swings, and you grab his shoulder. His eyes flick over to you, growing sad. Crap, did he think you weren't going to let him go? 

You mentally groan and roll your shoulders, "Yo, don't mess up your outfit out there, alright?"

Those blue eyes of his light up again, and you hold back a smile. He nods, and then he's gone. You walk over to him, sitting next to him on the other swing set and starting to swing slightly.

Two ladies walking by start giving glances at John and smiling, small talk that you couldn't hear showing on their lips. You scowl and glare at them, making them look away. They shouldn't look at him like that. He's a geek; you made him up like that. What if they saw him all like before and decided they didn't like him? What if they didn't see his smile all the time like you did? You mentally slap yourself, looking down. He's not yours; they can check him out all they want. Why did your throat hurt?

"Hey, Egbert?" you ask. Whoa, ok, he's almost at the top of the set. That kid's got some air.

The Crocker nerd smiled at you, voice louder than normal, "Yeah?"

You look down at the ground, legs swinging slightly and grab your camera, taking a picture of him smiling. He gives you a confused look, and you take another, putting down the camera.

"What'd you do that for?" he asked, slowing down and giving you the same puppy dog eyes as before. Why does he keep doing that? Why does your stomach hurt?

"Let's go get something to eat; I'm hungry," you mumble, standing up.

He gives out a whine, and you turn to him. He mutters, "But I'm not done swinging."

You hold out your hand to him, and when he finally stops swinging, he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, starting to walk with you. You roll your eyes, snatching your hand away. He snickers, and you snap another picture.

"Hey, stop that!" he cries, and you snicker.

"Can't help it," you say, taking a picture of the scenery around you. "I like taking pictures."

"Why don't you get a modern camera anyways? A digital one, you know? One where you use a com-pu-ter? You know? Pesterchum?" he says as if you're stupid.

You punch him in the gut, probably harder than you meant. He lets out a cry and a "hmph" of displeasure. "These pictures turn out much better in my opinion. Speaking of pesterchum, what's yours?"

"EctoBiologist, and yours?"

"Sounds lame, Egderp."

"Egbert!"

"Whatever. TurntechGodhead."

"I'll try to remember that," he says, biting the bottom of his lip and looking up.

Like you said, painfully observant. Like, the way he walks: he shuffles his pants against each other with each step, and his hands are usually in front of him, probably a trait from being shy, you guess. His eyelashes, fully black and long, almost feminine, you mentally snicker to yourself. His hands are very delicate and long, as if he plays something, something like, maybe guitar? You can't place your finger on it.

"Where do you want to go to eat?" and you're snapped back into reality- oop, there goes gravi-

You really need to stop that.

You shove your hands in your pockets and glance up at the sky, your camera thumping against your chest with every move, "Foreign?"

"Maybe later," he sticks his tongue out, "Something cold."

"That really doesn't leave me many options, Crocker dweeb."

"Stop that!" he pushes your side, and you chuckle.

"Fine, fine, John," you smile at him again. "Ice cream?"

His smile widens as far as humanly possible, and he nods. Your throat hurts, and you cough.

"It's, uh, it's just around the corner. I know a short-cut if you want."

"Definitely!!" he smiles, moving a piece of hair from his eyes.

You grab his hand and move over to the forest area surrounding the park, about to step in before nodding at him. He stays close behind as the forestry around you both went by quickly. Birds chirp around you as you set a fast-walk as the pace.

He stops in place and tugs on your hand, and you look back at him, almost falling over in the process.

"John, what are you doin'?" you ask, frustrated at your very prominent Texan accent.

He looks down, scratching his neck nervously, his dark hair falling over his face slightly. His feet shuffle, and you step closer to him so that you weren't arms-length away.

"Th-" he coughed, "Thanks."

You raise an eyebrow, noticing your hands still locked loosely, "For what?"

"For pretending to be my friend. It's been really fun," he smiles lightly, still looking down.

"Whoa whoa, pretending?" you ask, letting your hand go free. "Who said I was pretending?"

He sighed, rolling his head to the side and looking at one of the slightly damp logs, "You're a cool kid; I'm a nerd. We don't have that much in common."

"So?"

"So, we're not really friends, are we?"

"John," you put a hand on his shoulder and push back his hair with the other, "I've gotten this far; I'm stickin' with you, alright? I'll let you meet my cousin Rose and everything."

His smile, still fake you can tell, returns, and you let go of him and trail your arm slightly down his arm, grabbing his hand with a "ready?". He nods, and you keep walking. You can hear the rustle in the trees and the women talking about politics or animals or something, you don't really pay attention. Your feet drag along in your stride, trying not to get your pants too wet from the damp forest floor.

Soon, you two get to the shop, and you go to the front, nobody being in line before you, "What do you want, Egbert?"

His eyes scan the rows, and he bites his lip in thought again. You take your hand away from his, and look to the side, seeing a poster reading "5 cent karaoke", probably from back in the day.

"Vanilla, I guess. There's way too many options," he scratches his head and lets out a little noise of frustration.

You nod at the cashier, "Vanilla, chocolate." He rings it up, and in a few seconds, he gives you both the cones, you giving him the cash. You hand John his, and he smiles wide, sitting down in one of the booths.

"This place is very small," he comments, frowning at the ceiling.

"You're pretty small, but I still hang around ya," you snicker, taking a lick of your ice cream.

His face noticeably darkens, and you chuckle, holding your hand to your mouth. Small noises come from his mouth of futile comebacks that failed to leave his thoughts.

John looks over to the side and checks his phone, "Oh crap, I have to get back soon. Father'll get mad."

You shrug, "Want me to take you back?"

"No, no, I can get back myself. Thanks anyways, Dave. It was, heh, it was actually very enjoyable."

Your stomach turns, and you give out a forced smile, "See ya tomorrow?"

"Pester me tonight," he suggests, more of a command.

You nod and watch as he walks out the door, his tongue flicking at his treat.

"EctoBiolographer, right?"

"EctoBiologist," he smiles, closing the door behind him.

You know what you said. Maybe this one's okay. Maybe sometimes they don't always leave. Are you setting yourself up to knock yourself down?

You sigh and take a bite out of your ice cream, swallowing it and looking at the ceiling.

You can think of that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't update often because of school, sorry, but I'll try to update as much as I can!!


	3. Con Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically they just watch a movie I'm sorry this really isn't eventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRIES i'm very sorry for not updating I'm a lazy butt feel free to yell at me in my tumblr inbox hhh  
> dave's still being an angsty little butt haha

Your computer screen turns on with a soft click, and you push your shades up a little. What did that dork say his pesterchum handle was? EwgrossBiologist? Heheh, you'll have to save that one for later, that was pretty good. You type at your keyboard quickly, a little blue screen appearing.

Accept request?

Pending. . .

Your fingers tap at your desk idly, humming a new beat that you'll have to record later on.

Accepted!

Red eyes stare blankly at the screen, watching as he typed out a message to you.

turntechGodhead [TG] joined chat.

ectoBiologist [EB] joined chat.

 

EB: hello?

TG: hey guess who

TG: its a pretty rockin dude

TG: handsome and dashin in every way

TG: and he will be very mad if you get this wrong

EB: i'm going to guess dave.

TG: great you got it right give the boy a prize

You smirk to yourself; this is already a great introduction. You'll be sure to look back on these later when you re-read them.

TG: hows it hangin egderp?

EB: hanging good here.

EB: i miss you already.

TG: everyone does

EB: we need to do that again.

TG: sounds cool lets do that

EB: really?

TG: yeah man that sounds cool

TG: movie marathon?

EB: con air?

TG: sounds like fun

TG: dumb movie though

EB: you're dumb.

TG: wow

EB: anyways i should go start my algebra homework. you should, too.

TG: if i followed everything the teacher said id be a straight a student

EB: exactly.

TG: no i dont think you understand

EB: just go do your homework.

EB: :P

TG: later loser

turntechGodhead [TG] disconnected.

ectoBiologist [EB] disconnected.

Are you smiling? No, that's not smiling. That's grinning; you're grinning. You throw yourself onto your bed, grabbing your headphones. It's been a long day for yourself, you've tired yourself out. You're allowed to take a nap with some nice beats pumping in your ears. Tomorrow will be fun, you think to yourself.

 

They always leave you, just like everyone else.

~~~

Your music blasts into your ears, making you nod your head in rhythm. Padding your shoes along with the bass, you make your way to John's house after school. You couldn't help but stare at John during class, whether he caught you or not. People started talking to John more, something that made you tap your foot in frustration. It's Friday night, and you have nothing to do but hang out with your bro for as long as you want.

Back to rea-

Don't you even START that again.

A knock knock knock on heaven's door, and John's footsteps can be heard pounding against his stairs. He swings the door open, a loose clump of hair falling in front of his face. To which, he blew his hair out of the way in frustration then continued to smile at you.

"Hey there, John, how's it hangin'?" you say, crossing one foot behind the other.

"Hanging pretty great over here! Come on, get in. I've got Con Air already up and running for you," he smiles that great wide grin, and your stomach decides, hey, this is a great time to do a back flip.

You walk inside and look around, nothing is out of the ordinary here. It's a lot more neat than you thought it would be, no wires or weaponry anywhere in site. He ushers you to the couch, and you settle in, wrapping your arms around the back of the couch as you laid back. John sits under your arm, pressing play with the remote before throwing it to the side.

Soon, the menu goes away, and you're greeted with the beginning of the totally lame movie.

A few minutes later, a voice whispers to you, "So?"

You look over to the side, your hair flipping as you hum out a questionable tone, "Hm?"

"Do you like it?" John smiles, looking up at you with those stupid blue eyes, and you bite down on your cheek a second and look away at the screen.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, I guess," you lie. You're a liar. A very big one at that. You hadn't been paying attention to the movie much. Just the way John's eyes lit up when Cage came up or the way his fingers fiddled on his pants and his red shirt. You found that he looked great in red but even better in blue.

You wonder how he'd look in your colour red. Maybe in your turntable shirt. How it would look to see his eyes light up when you walked in the room. You need to stop day dreaming, now, Strider, this is Egbert we're talking about. There's a very lame movie you need to ironically watch with him. Go on, look at the movie. Movie. Go. Now. To the movie. Stop looking at him. Stop it. Stop!

You finally look over at the movie reluctantly, a stuffed bunny appearing on the screen. That looks great, maybe John would like it if you got him something like that, you make a mental note.

You might like this Egbert kid a little more than you intended. Best bros, possibly. Or-

No, stop there. Best bros. And. That's It.

You sneak another glance at him, and his face is so soft and sad, isn't this when Nic gives that bunny to that little girl? That scene? Come on, it's not that sad. He looks like he's going to cry, the wimp.

You might be getting a little more attached than you thought.


	4. Bzzt Bzzt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sO sorry guys I just forget to continue writing for a while go on and yell at me whenever you want to continue writing,,

Your head pounds, banging against your forehead over and over in a soft thud thud thud. _Where are you?_ Ah, yes, you're in your house again. _Which room?_  The bathroom. Alright, your vision is clearing up more. You look at yourself in the mirror, and you wipe the back of your hand against your forehead and swipe your fingers through your hair. Why can't you think straight?

As your hand leans off of the sink, you wash your face with cold water. That feels better at least. You grab a towel and scrape it across your face, and, ow, that really shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. You can afford all of these high tech electronics but god forbid if you have a soft towel. A hard throw of the towel to the ground makes you feel a little better.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

You answer your phone, leaning against the bathroom door. Who'd be calling right now? Isn't it, like, midnight? Five thirty? Who cares about time; it's the weekend.

"What?"

"Wow, a little rude for a greeting, don't you think?" a voice from the other line chimes in, the voice slightly consoling and slightly condescending, if that makes sense in your mind. Which it does. Because this is her you're talking to.

"What time's it?" you slump up, turning around and opening the door.

A short pause from the other end. "I do believe it's six in the evening around your house."

You groan walking towards the kitchen and grabbing a cup. "It's six. Rose, why are you callin'?"

You pour yourself a cup of water to calm yourself down, sipping on it.

"Can't I call just to say hello?"

"No. What's your ulterior motive?"

"Ah, you know me too well, David."

"Don't call me-"

"This boy you've been seeing. I'd like to know about him."

You narrow your eyes, "How do you know about him?"

"Your brother."

You groan, finishing off your drink and putting it in the sink. Should've known. Wait, how does she have his nu- You know what, you'll ask later.

"His name is John."

"Ooo~" You could just see the way her stupid lip movements and her eyebrow raise and her smirk.

"Shut it. He's a pretty cool dude, he thinks I'm cool, whatever, now we're bros," you step into your room and sit at your computer, turning to your webcomic.

You could hear a small mutter that sounded vaguely similar to "bros, hm?", but you ignored her. You really weren't in the mood for her psychoanalytic crap.

"Listen up, I've gotta go eat somethin' for the first time today, alright?" you ask.

"You need to take better care of yourself, David."

"Stop calli-"

"I bid you ado."

Beep beep beep.

And she hung up. Great. You're going to have an earful later from her. You start drawing some SBaHJ to ease your mind. Sometime you will have to eat, just not right now. You check pesterchum because of the soft ping it gave, and you expect another analysis from Rose.

EB: hey!

Your eyes lit up, and you smirked. John again.

TG: hey bro whats up

EB: just thinking. i'm really bored again, and this movie isn't working.

TG: that happens when youve watched it fourty times

EB: thirty seven!

TG: john

EB: whatever.

EB: do you want to hang out tonight or something?

EB: like i can make dinner and such?

TG: why johnathon egbert are you askin me out on a date

EB: dave, you know what i mean!

EB: like i can make cookies from my crocker cookbook?

TG: its a date

EB: ... i don't know if you're agreeing with me or calling this a date.

TG: yeah

EB: dave!

TG: ill be over in a minute alright

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] disconnected --

 

You stretch, going over to pick out a shirt to put on over your white undershirt. Blue would make John happy. He likes that colour. You put on a blue overshirt, smirking to yourself as you mess your hair up lightly.

You can't wait for your date with the dweeb. Bro date. Date with your bro. Hanging out. With dinner.

You're way too attached to this dork ball. You make your way to your door, about to go hang out with John.


	5. Death Noodles

Your knuckles rapped against John's door in a rat tat tat. You may have gone a little overboard with the tapping. You're rapping under your breath. Stop that. John opens up the door carefully, and your nose is taken off to dream land; is that cookies you smell?

"Dave, you're here! I'm- I'm not finished yet, come in!" John smiles at you and opens the door fully.

You place a hand to your heart and lean back slightly in fake swoon from the smell of pure delight: Betty Crocker cookies. Making your way inside with swiftness, you close the door behind you and watch as Egbert scurries along back into the kitchen to continue his baking fiasco. What a cute kid. Baking for your date. Your bro date. Between bros.

You're screwed.

As you walk into the kitchen again, you spot him twitting between the stove and the counter top and the oven and everything else in the general vicinity. You notice he's wearing an apron with the crocker symbol on it and is using many crocker themed tools. What a- uh- devoted family, you smile softly to yourself.

Without thinking- because, face it, do you ever think before doing things, you ask yourself- you walk over to Egbert and place your hands on his hips and your chest against his back, humming softly.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" you smirk into his ear, causing him to jump and turn around.

His eyes are wide as he looks back at you, then he pouts his angry little pout before pushing on your shoulders and making you back up, "I said I wasn't finished yet. Out with you."

Your eyes widen, and your chuckle softly through your shocked expression, "Yeah, yeah. Don't tell me what you're makin' or nothin'."

"Spaghetti, now get out!" he finally pushes you through the doorframe and goes back to his busy work. "Five minutes, tops!"

You smirk to yourself before chuckling again and going to lay down on his couch. It's so soft; how does anyone find a couch this soft? You'll have to ask him later. Wait, you're seriously thinking of asking him where he got his couch. Wow, that's it, Dave. You've lost it. Consider yourself lost. Gone in the deep abyss. Go on without me. Save yourself. Et cetera. Et cetera.

You're way too comfortable here, you decide, as your eyes start to drift closed. Warm house. Soft couch. Delicious food cooking. Cookies for later. A cute boy cooking them. What more could you want?

"Dave? Dave. Dave!" a voice calls from above you, and you groan and turn to your side.

"Five more minutes, bro."

"Dinner's ready. Get up," you open your eyes to see Egbert's right there in front of you. He smiles lightly before continuing, "Blue looks good on you, by the way."

Yes, heart, this is the perfect time to have a heart attack; thank you very much.

You start to sit up and stretch your arms upwards before smiling lightly at him. You both make your way to the dinner table and sit down across from each other. The meal is already spread out on your plates with a glass of- wine? No, you smell it, apple juice. God, you love this boy.

As a bro, of course.

"John, this is-" you start, picking up your fork as you begin to take a taste.

Are you dead? Is this heaven? Has God himself sent you this food through Egbert? Egbert's an angel. This spaghetti would make Italians go nuts. You catch yourself from almost moaning into your eighth fork-full in a row.

"Good?" he finishes, grinning at you.

You look up at him and place your fork down, cracking your knuckles.

This is about to go down.

"Johnny boy, this is not good. This is amazing. Did you get little faeries to come in and help you season every single noodle of this? What about the sauce, huh? Is it from the fountain of Gods, or are you just that good? I doubt you're just that good; what secrets do you have, Egbert? What secrets lie within these mere noodles? Did you kill a man and put his blood in this sauce? A unicorn? Are these noodles made of unicorn horns? No, John, stop laughing. This is serious business here. What did you do to make this spaghetti?"

You finish off into a silence as John's laughter takes its place throughout the whole house, and you grin at him. His laughter is infectious, and you find yourself laughing a little along with him.

"You're such- haha!- a dork!!" John takes off his glasses and wipes a tear from his eyes. "Eat your death noodles before it g-gets cold!! Haha, you're so lame, Dave!"

With a determined expression, you gladly do just that. One time you even slurp your noodles, and they smack against your shades. John offers you a napkin, but you lick it off, causing his bubbly laugh to grow again.

After you both finish, you happily suggest, "So, cookies?"

"I can't believe you're still hungry after this, Dave," he smirks, grabbing the plates and putting them in the sink.

You walk up behind him and grab him around the waist, picking him up and swinging him in a circle.

"Dave, put me down!!" he screams between loud laughter, kicking his limbs around.

You set him down and turn him around, pulling him into a tight hug, which he happily returns, "Just wanted to thank you for the meal."

"Now cookies?" he mumbles in your ear.

You jump up and grab the tray from the cooling rack and make your way quickly back into the living room, ignoring his protests of "hey!". You sit on the couch and put the tray in your lap and bounce a little when he sits next to you, stealing a cookie off of your lap.

You also take a cookie into your mouth before leaning back into the couch, limp in another fake swoon.

Mumbling through the cookie- and the other three you stash into your mouth- you say, "Okay, Egbert, you're going to be my wife now. We're married; you're just going to have to deal with it."

"They're just Betty Crocker brand cookies, Dave," he chuckles, leaning back with you.

"I love these cookies, man. I love you," you say before stopping mid bite about what you just said.

You didn't just-

You did, didn't you.

"Do I have to take away those cookies, or are you going to stop speaking nonsense, Dave?" he rolls his eyes. Cool. Play it cool. You did not just say that.

"Not the cookies," you mumble, taking the rest and holding them hostage in your hands.

He whines back at you, "Dave, come on. You're going to get sick if you eat all those cookies."

"Don't care."

"Dave."

"Let me eat these cookies."

"Dave, you have five cookies in your hand, and you've already eaten-"

You stuff three more in your mouth before setting down the other two, and John's face is priceless. His mouth could catch flies with how wide it is right now.

"Dave, oh my god," he mutters before shoving his face in his hands to contain the laughter. "No more cookies for you."

You mumble something along the lines of "no, I need the cookies" before his hand reaches out to hold onto your chin, and his thumb swipes across the part right next to your mouth.

"You can't get crumbs on my couch, Dave," his eyes narrow non-threateningly.

His hand is still there.

His thumb moves slightly and grazes over your cheek.

And you choke on the rest of your cookies.

You knock the tray on the ground as you stand up, coughing to get yourself together. John's just on the couch, trying to help but only by holding out his arms lightly and going "you okay?". You finally catch your breath before laughing loudly.

"Well, uh, this was nice, I have to go now. See you, Egbert," you say, speedwalking over to the door and shutting it closed behind you.

You raced back to your house and slammed the door to your room, sliding down the door to hit the ground with a thump.

 _Ping_.

You look down at your phone at the text message you've recieved and sigh, throwing it across the room.

 

TT: We need to have a talk about this John character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PleaSE GO YELL AT ME TO FINISH MY BOOKS I'M HORRIBLE


	6. Same Boat, Sinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still writing this, I've just lost inspiration for a good bit there ;u; sorry  
> I just need to come up with a ploT,,,

Your hands swiftly run through your blonde hair, ridding the strands of the shampoo in between them. A soft sigh comes from your throat as your hands rub against your face. Showers are the best way to calm your nerves. They're legendary. Perfect. Soft streams of water cleansing you of you and your gay sins. Showers are infinitely better than baths, in your opinion. You'd rather stand in a shower than sit in a pile of your own filth. Then again, when you take baths, it's usually after a strife, and your body is long-since covered in dirt from your awful failure at fighting your brothers.

_Ping._

You ignore the noise for what must be the tenth time in two minutes. You let your mind wander to who it is. Probably Rose. Or maybe your brother, Dirk, but he's probably in the other room, tinkering on his own project, so why would he pester you? Might be John. You're silent for a second as you feel the steam come off of your skin, turning the nob on the shower off.

Probably John.

How could he do that to you? How could this little idiot nerd pull on your heartstrings in such a way?

You reach for the towel and drag it across your face. Ouch. Still with the horribly rough towels. Your mind wanders over, and you wonder how soft John's towels are.

A small knot, and your bottom half- still drying- is covered with your towel.

_Ping._

You ignore it again, grabbing your shades and covering your eyes with them. A few water droplets dribble on it from your still-wet hair. As you open the door, you turn on the fan, as the steam from inside will most likely set the fire alarm off, and you don't want to deal with that right now.

Not even thinking, you put on some dark grey jeans and a blue t-shirt. You stop as soon as it's on, fiddling with the hem of it. You take it off, and put on your broken record shirt. The towel scratches the sides of your head as you ruffle it over yourself to dry off your hair.

"Dave," a voice calls from your doorway.

Weird, you thought you closed that door.

"What," you sigh, putting your towel down in your laundry bin. You don't want to make your floor wet.

Dirk appeared in your vision, and you groan a bit. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you can feel him glaring at you from behind his triangular shades, "Answer whoever's talkin' to you."

You scowl at him and cross your arms defiantly, "What's it to you?"

"I can hear your phone from my room, and it's prohibiting me from work," he pauses. "AR says there's a 84.24 percent- no I'm not sayin' that whole number- chance that it's John, and a 44.5 percent chance it's also Rose. Just answer them already."

Dirk's Auto Responder could be seen blinking a small light in front of his eyes; you never liked that thing. Dirk's too smart for his own good, and two Dirks, one with an even more awful, snarky, "I know more than you" attitude? Not fun, indeed.

"Listen, little dude. Either you just answer them, or I'm gettin' Bro in here," he turns on his heel, confident that his threat will get to you.

And it does.

You sigh a little, picking up your phone and checking Pesterchum. John's handle is on top, showing that he's been messaging you, and Rose's is right under. They're both blinking.

With a groan, you click on Rose's first.

tentacleTherapist [TT] started pestering turntechGod [TG].

TT: We need to talk, David.

TT: You just threw your phone, didn't you?

TT: I swear, you're five years old in your teenage body.

TT: Dave.

TT: I know you're taking a shower, and I know that you can hear me contacting you. I know you, Dave.

TT: Talk to me whenever you're ready.

You groan even louder, throwing yourself on your bed. It's not as comfy as John's couch, you grimace. Stop thinking that. Your fingers start typing back a text.

TG: yeah just showered dont want to talk

You think about it for a second, then continue.

TG: fine ill talk later just give me a min to get my teen angst together

Your fingers hesitate over the little EctoBiologist blinking under it. Finally, you click on it.

ectoBiologist [EB] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG].

EB: hey, dave?

EB: you kinda just ran out of my house.

EB: i hope you're okay.

A little pain in your heart twinges.

EB: you know i have a bathroom at my house if that's what you needed?

A smile grows on your face as you continue to scroll, reading his messages.

EB: it's not me, is it?

The pain again.

EB: i mean we can like stop being friends if that's what you need.

EB: just, uh.

EB: message me back, i guess.

You've never typed a message back quicker than you just have.

TG: sorry egderp just took a shower

His message appeared quickly as well, like he was waiting. Your throat hurts at the thought.

EB: dave!

EB: i'm glad you're okay.

EB: was starting to get worried.

TG: aw you missed me

EB: well yeah. when someone practically sprints out of your house, that'll do it for you.

You frown a bit, thinking of what you've done. What was going through his mind while you ran?

TG: sorry about that

TG: so uh tomorrows monday

EB: yeah?

TG: want to meet up by my locker?

TG: maybe bring some of those cookies?

EB: dave.

EB: you kinda.

TG: yeah?

EB: you kinda threw them on the floor.

You did, didn't you. You mentally and physically slap yourself for it.

TG: sorry

EB: you're apologizing a lot.

EB: you sure you're not sick?

Tap, tap, tap. Your fingers tap against your phone case. It's a good idea, sure. Use it.

TG: yeah i think i might be sick

TG: didnt want to get my dave cooties on you

EB: haha! sure, dave.

EB: i'll bring you soup tomorrow, how about that?

TG: sounds gnarly

TG: see you tomorrow

EB: see ya!

For ironies, you type a little "<3" in your chat box. Before you can hit send, you see a message pop up in front of you.

EB: <3

You smile, but it soon turns into a frown. You set down your phone, sure your box is going to keep sending a message saying "turntechGodhead [TG] is typing..." to John, but you can't seem to care. Teen angst fills you again, and bluh, you just lay down on your bed.

Your mind wanders over and over to John. You wonder if he likes your couch. He's been over a few times, but he hasn't complained about it once. Or anything about your house, really. He couldn't like your room, or your house; it's so much more different than his. More hostile, you realize. You can't think of him liking it, compared to his house.

"Finally," Dirk appeared at your door again.

You shoot up in your bed, surprised at the appearance, "Finally?"

"Finally, you're done moping around. You've been annoying me ever since you ran in here," he responded, walking into your room like he owns the place. Which he doesn't. Bro does.

"I wasn't moping," you growl slightly, leaning back on the bed. You think for a minute, "Hey, bro?"

He sits on the edge of your bed, raising an eyebrow, "I'm not Rose, so don't expect a therapy lesson."

You chuckle a little before going serious again. How to word this, how to word this. You sigh, just letting it out to him, "What do you do when you like someone?"

He sits still for a moment, looking over through your window.

"I don't know your situation, so I can't tell you for sure," he finally responds.

You think back to him and his situations. He still has a crush on that transfer student back when he was in high school. Jake English, you think his name was.

"You ever figure out how to get English?" you ask him, a ghost of a smirk appearing on your face.

He glares at you lightly before softening his features, "Don't think so. He needs someone who's blunt, and I- I just don't think I can do that. I don't know what's going through his stupid brain."

You chuckle. He's in deep. Like you, you suppose, but harder, deeper. You can't possibly fathom how long he's liked this kid.

"Can't just tell him, huh?" you ask, smiling a bit.

"Nope. Neither can you, huh?" he asks back.

"Nope."

You both sit in silence, and it's not awkward. Somehow.

"Who's the lucky guy?" he asks, a small smile on his face as he looks at you.

You furrow your eyebrows, "I never said it was-"

"I know you, kid. Who is he?" Dirk interrupts. Darn. He always knows. Or maybe he's projecting.

With a sigh, you answer, "John Egbert."

You hear a chuckle fall into full blown laughter. Glancing over with a wild expression, he's over there, holding his stomach.

"Oh my god," he mumbles under the laughing.

"What?" you start to get concerned and a bit fearful.

"John's Jake's cousin. And Jane's brother," he finally says.

It hits you. You thought back to when Jane and Jake came over those few times, wearing red. To when Jane brought delicious cookies matching the level of flavour of John's every time she came over. The same facial shapes, the same hair colour, the same smiles.

No wonder he's answering back your advances with similar ones. Like Jake, he thinks you're just playing around with him.

You're in the same boat as Dirk, and you both are sinking steadily, faster and faster.

You laugh a bit, exhausted already.

Yeah, you admit to yourself. You like him. Maybe a little more than bros.

You skipped over no friends to having a giant crush. On a boy who doesn't think of you as anything more than a best friend. Oh, come on.

This year is going to be so complicated.


	7. Playing Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised you guys are taking a liking to this already! I've had this thing out for god knows how long, but I think inspiration has hit me a little bit, so maybe I'll continue this, but at like five in the morning consistently haha i have work in the morning

Your hair looks perfect, your skin is clear, and your life is perfect. This is just so _not_ perfect. How are you supposed to convince Egbert you got sick if you look like you walked out of a magazine? Okay, you admit, you always look like you're from a magazine, but still!

A few ruffles to your hair, rough rubbing against your nose and cheeks, and you think you look a little bit more on the sick side. You even decide to bring a jacket. Maybe a blanket, yeah, for ironies of course. Well, ironic to you and only you. Considering everyone else is going to think you're sick. Dramatic irony. Thanks, English class.

"Dave, hurry up, you're going to miss the bus," Dirk calls from outside your door. He's always awake just long enough to see you off to school, then he takes a break from his projects and sleeps in til three in the afternoon. Perfect timing.

"Yeah, yeah," you groan back at him, messing up your hair a little more and wrapping your blanket into a ball in front of you. You hesitate, then grab some tissues for added effect.

Being sick has never been harder.

\--

"Dave!" a voice calls you from behind, and you turn around.

You're almost crushed in a hug from John, and you wish you could reciprocate if your hands weren't pinned to your sides in the hug. He doesn't let go for a bit, before leaning back and holding your arms.

"Aw, look at you, you're hideous," John mocks, and you roll your eyes from behind your shades.

You flip your hair out of your face and try to make your voice sound deep and hoarse, "Better than you, babe."

He scoffs, slapping your shoulder. He's back in his red outfit, but at least he's put on jeans and let his suspenders hang from his sides. John's kept the shades that you gave him, claiming that he needed a new prescription anyways; you didn't buy that, but you also don't wear glasses, so you can't judge.

When you return to reality and take the nope train out of your thoughts, he's holding something in front of you. A box of some sort?

"I thought you might need some soup to make you feel better," he explains. "I also put in a few cookies I made after you left."

"You made me a bento box?" you asked incredulously, holding it in your hands.

He scratched his neck a bit, awkwardly, "Well, I mean, not really but if you'd say-"

"You totally made me a bento box."

"Dave, no, I-"

"Doki doki, John-kun."

"Dave, oh my god-"

"Senpai has totally noticed you."

"Dave, please-"

You lean down and give him a hug, "Thanks, bro."

"Don't mention it. Seems like you're doing just normal, though," he murmurs, poking at your cheek.

You let out a fake sneeze and look at him as he pulls his finger back in disgust.

"Don't look so pretty now, huh?" you mock, wiping your nose a little harder than needed to get the colour back.

You kinda feel bad about lying to him, but you can't let him know the real reason behind this. You just can't.

"Never said you looked pretty ever, Dave," he snickers, and he grabs your books out of your hands. "Might as well walk you to class since you're oh, so sick, Princess David."

You feel really bad now. He's taking your books for you an-

Wait.

"Don't call me that," you freeze up. There's only one person who calls you that, and he can NOT be talking to her of all people.

"Why not?" he grins, teeth gleaming. Oh, no. He knows too much.

You grumble under your breath. The damage was done. You just hope on all things Strider that she hasn't told him too much. She wouldn't be that mean, would she? Well, you know the answer to that question, but you just hope she's not for you and your poor heart's sake.

\--

"I never knew you two were siblings," you observe at the lunch table, sitting next to the person you love, the person you hate, and the person you never knew was the person you love's sibling.

Jade Harley, gun nut, science enthusiast, and lover of animals and plants. She was the sibling to which you were referring to. A glorious gal you met in kindergarten when she pushed you over out of the swings. A glorious gal who you paid her back by putting ants in her lunchbox in first grade. You never knew. She was wearing a green dress, but she had a white spoon, Betty Crocker pin on it, and her glasses were a bright red colour. Yeesh, whole family's in on it.

"Step siblings, David," the person you hate comments from your left side.

Rose Lalonde. Needs no introduction. Obviously.

"Yeah, we've been kinda in and out of contact in middle school, but since high school, we've been tighter than the stick that's shoved up Jane's butt," Jade comments, waving her hand in the air.

John groans beside her, "Just because she won't let you carve pumpkins with her _three hundred dollar_ set of kitchen knives doesn't mean that there's a stick up her butt, Jade."

You and Rose share a quiet snicker.

"Speaking of things up people's butts, has Dirk even talked to Jake since high school? I thought they were dating," Jade asks, both to you and to John.

You both share a look of confusion before shrugging.

"I know Dirk wants a piece of that fine English booty still, but I don't think they dated. There has to be a reason he's still pining for him after all," you reply, shrugging your shoulders again.

You gotta stop shrugging, you mentally scold yourself. You still have that totally ironic blanket wrapped around yourself.

"From what I know, Jake doesn't even know he's flirting with him," John rolls his eyes, a hand on his chin in boredom. "Why won't they just date already?"

"Yes, David, why _won't_ those two boys just date?" Rose asks you, a small smirk on her lips.

She, of course, is talking about you and John now, unbeknownst to Jade and John. You give her a small flick of the middle finger in her sight and not in the others'.

You look down at your soup, already long gone by now. It was just too good. And the cookies, well, they never stood a chance.

Sighing a little, you pick everything up and hand the box to John, "Thanks for the meal, by the way."

"No probs, Bob," he smiles, putting the box in his backpack.

You roll your eyes a little at him, even though he can't see. You know he can tell, though. You're sure of it.

"Big news, though, I think our Janey might have a little crush on someone!" Jade grabs John's arm and shakes it a little.

He looks over at her, smiling wide, "Who, who?"

"You know that one chick that was like always drunk all the time when she came to our house? Roxy?"

Purple eyes widen as the holder sets down her drink.

"Roxy Lalonde?" she asks quietly.

Jade looks over at her, smiling a big, buck-toothed smile. Must run in the family.

"Yeah, why- Wait! Rose Lalonde! Oh my god, is that your sister??" Jade bounces in her seat.

"Yes. Yes, it is," she groans and leans her head back. "And she's been wanting to date a girl named "Janey-cakes" since her freshman year. Goodness."

Jade's out of her seat now, and John's hand is pushing her down slightly, "That's great! Oh my gosh, they'll be so perfect together! Right, Dave?"

You focus back, your mind lost in the conversation, and you mutter back a, "Yeah, great."

John's hand is on your shoulder, giving you a soft rub, "Hey, be a little slower with Dave, Jade; he's sick."

You're practically radiating heat now from the blush he just gave you. How dare he.

"I'm just fine, thank you very much," you mutter, making John chuckle at you.

"You look like crap, Dave. Doesn't he, Rose?" his hands smoosh your cheeks in as he turns your head to Rose.

Rose looks up over her lashes and smirks, "I dunno, looks like normal to me."

Jerks, the lot of them.

\--

"Lots of water, no staying up late, and make sure to video chat me tonight!" John's hands are pressing your hair down from the frayed mess it was earlier, and you swatted them away.

"Yes, mom."

"Alright, alright. Take care of yourself, I don't need a sick Strider on my hands," he frowns.

You're smiling on the inside, how protective. Maybe you should be sick more often.

"Video chat me," he repeats as he gets back into his father's car.

You've got it harder than teenage Dirk watching Hentai alone in his room at three a.m. when he thinks no one can hear him but he's so loud that probably the entirety of Japan can hear him.

....Ew, don't think of that.


	8. Strider Abs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS NOT ABANDONED I'M JUST HORRIBLE AT ACTUALLY COMING UP WITH PLOT LINES AND I THOUGHT OF ONE APPARENTLY LIKE THREE MONTHS AGO AND NOW I DONT REMEMBER SO I GUESS HERE WE GO-

Your screen buzzes to life, emitting a soft hum and a dull colour to its screen. You put on your headphones - a hard task to do when you're wrapped in a blanket cocoon - and click on the Pesterchum app on your desktop. Fingers thrum against your desk while you wait until your computer decides to work fast for once and go online.

turntechGodhead [TG] is now online.

Good, finally. You scroll your cursor over Egbert's handle and press down, then click on the "Video Chat" option.

The screen cracks a bit as _his_ face shows up enlarged on the video chat box on your desktop. He looks confused for a second, fiddling with the webcam. Cute.

"Hey, Dave!" John smiles wide into the cam, flashing off his pearly whites.

You wave a bit to him and take this moment to look around his room via his webcam. There's a lot of red, you can tell. And, is that Nicolas Cage? Is that a Ghostbuster's poster? What?

"What's up?" you finally manage to look back at him and reply.

He looks up to his ceiling- at least, there should be a ceiling, you can't tell, but everyone has to have a roof, right?- and blows a strand of that haphazard hair out of his eyes. Gosh, you want to play with that hair. Not that you already don't, it's just that you aren't currently running your fingers through those messy locks, and it's torture.

"Not much. Dad's making cupcakes, so the place smells nice. Did you do your homework?" he asks, moving a hand to his chin to let his elbow rest on the desk in front of him.

You scoff, putting one hand up to your heart in mock offense, "Why, Johnathan Egbert, are you saying that I, a poor dame who has fallen ill, has to do her homework?"

He glares a bit, sticking his tongue out, "Yeah, doofus. It's called getting a good grade, ever heard of it?"

Fiesty.

"It's called having a life off school, heard of that, Egderp?" you retort in a playful manner, making him scoff.

John rolls his eyes, and you can see every colour of blue in them, sparkling like the soft blues off of waves of water.

Okay, wow. That was gay.

"Come over, I'm sick," you give off a totally fake cough, smiling a bit.

John's eye twitches, "I don't want to get sick. I don't want Dave cooties."

"Oh, come on. You want all of this sick bod. All of it," you cough once and wiggle your eyebrows above your shades, smirking.

Is that a blush? That's totally a blush. Now his face looks like the red undershirt he's wearing.

"What? N-No, shut up, Dave. You're being stupid," he retorts, looking away from the screen.

Victory one for the Strider gang.

You whisper to the side, making sure he can hear, as if someone else was talking, "I heard Strider was ripped, that Strider has an eight pack."

John snorts, covering his hand as he laughed.

"What's so funny there, Egbert?" you smirk at him.

You've been working out since you were a toddler. Literally. Came out of the womb with an eight- no, a _twelve_ pack. Totally. Realistically, you were pretty nice under the hood- uh, shirt hood- well, you mean, you're not too bad under the trunk, but that's besides the point-, and you liked the fact that Egbert most likely did not know this tid bit of information. You could use this to your advantage. Make it Strider victory 2 of the night.

"You eat chips and cookies like a monster; who would ever say you're ripped?" he chuckled behind his hand, eyes crinkling up in amusement.

"Oh?"

You lift up your shirt and move up a bit to give full view of the Strider Abs™. Trademarked and copyrighted. Absolutely.

He chokes on his own spit, his eyes widening, and his laughter had ceased immediately. Wow, this kid has some owl eyes if you've ever seen one. Lookin' like Rowlet over here.

"I- I-" he swallows and looks to the side. "C-Coming, Dad!"

He scrambles off his chair, nearly knocking it over, coming back to fix it, and runs of the room with a slam of the door. You can hear a faint screaming, like someone was trying to be quiet but was really freaking out.

Then, the screen cuts off with a soft static before a ping of "ectoBiologist [EB] is now offline.".

His dad totally did not call him.

Victory two for the Strider gang. The Strider gang and the Strider abs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please if you have any ideas for any new chapters, it'll probs inspire me to continue this since I'm not really sure where to go from here since I had a plot line and now I forgot????? Woops??  
> And if you want to draw anything or talk to me, please refer to my tumblr TomaSyri, as this is how to contact me best and quickest ;u; Thank you so much for all the support thus far, and I will continue this, I apologize so so much for leaving this alone for so long!!!!


End file.
